Fabricated Worlds
by destinykeyblade
Summary: New Ylisstol is not the best city in the world, and especially not if you have to live there; still, with a little help from their friends, the last surviving priest of a dying faith and a woman with more secrets than truths to explain them are somehow weaving the fabric of their lives around eachother in a pattern meant to last. Modern AU
1. Chapter 1

Hey. Remember me? Yeah, I live. I know, it's a shock after all this time. I've learned recently that I am incredibly slow when it comes to writing anymore. Sorry about that.

So, welcome to my newest fic (yes, the title is something of an Ib reference, before you ask :P), Fabricated Worlds! This just kind of grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go until I did something about it - you know how those plot bunnies are. And speaking of bunnies, you can pretty much blame/praise SpookedRabbits for this whole thing; I encountered (her?) Libra fics on this site some time ago, and I swear, I don't think I have ever fallen so hard and fast for a fictional character before. I had never played Awakening when I read those - actually still haven't gotten the chance, to be honest - so I had no idea who Libra was, what he looked like, anything, and still, I was completely lost to him. So, because of SpookedRabbits' fics, as well as certain lines in support conversations I've seen on youtube, I believe wholeheartedly in a darker Libra lurking behind those white robes and shining armor, and I can't help but write him that way. In addition, this being a modern AU allows me to twist his backstory as I please so that I may shape him into what I want him to be without making him painfully OOC. Should be lots of fun ;P

The other character here is my tactician from my woefully unwritten fic Stratagem, which I do not recommend you read AT ALL; when I wrote that first chapter, I didn't know who she was yet, but after six years of getting to know her very well, I realize that I did her all wrong, which is why that story never went anywhere (on paper). So, ignore that, and please also ignore this first chapter as well. I quite honestly kind of hate it, but it is what it has to be; the person you see here is not her, either, but for good reason. Also, when we get to her 'real' character, she, like Libra, will be slightly different due to the modern AU. I ask that you go ahead and finish the second chapter of this fic before you pass judgement on it, because that's what the rest of it is going to be like, not this hideous thing that had to come first.

That said, I hope you enjoy; I have had a marvelous time writing this fic so far! ^v^

* * *

New Ylisstol. The capital city of the kingdom, such as it was, of Ylisse. Frankly it wasn't much of a kingdom anymore; not at all. They were really only a couple of steps away from doing away with the whole royalty business and installing an elected official to run things. And believe it or not, this actually still mattered to people, which pitted the different factions against eachother daily, thus creating a kingdom rife with political unrest when it was just about due for a revolution _anyways_. Not real bright.

In any case, New Ylisstol (a city quite similar to one that might be found on another level of the Tower, but that here was fiction) had become a hideous, seething city filled with hideous, seething people, who swarmed about hideously and seething in a hideous, seething mass. Which, one might reflect, if one had time to stop seething and being hideous, was why all the heads on a particular street were turning, the faces set into them showing incredulity, to gawk at the individual who was currently be-bopping her way down the street, hair impractically flying loose about her face (aghast were the proper, efficiently bunned businesswomen who witnessed this spectacle), wearing brightly colored clothing (those same businesswomen stared enviously after a glance down at their own boring, bluish gray suits and skirts) that also flopped around as she danced (nothing need be said about _that_ debacle), but what bothered the hideous inhabitants of this city and had them seething was the fact that this female (due to her immaturity, girl or woman could not be defined simply by looking) was not only dancing erratically, but _singing_ to go along with it! But as well they should stare - in any place it would be strange to see a girl of undetermined age grooving down the street to the rendition of Oliver And Company's _Why Should I Worry_ that she herself was performing.

The stares gradually faded away and the citizens turned back to their various forms of drudgery, after deciding that this chick was from outta town; 'Way out', some mumbled derisively. In either case, it was true, and the out-of-towner, though still grinning as her song ended, realized with a total lack of surprise that she was truly, completely, and hopelessly lost. "WHOOOO!" she cried raucously, doing a brief jig. "Who's shocked?!"

At this the people glanced back up for a moment to assess whether she was on drugs or just weird. There was a general consensus of drugs, and again they went back to work. Meanwhile, she shimmied herself on down the street, now singing _Perfect Isn't Easy_ ; her brain was apparently playing through the soundtrack. She was of course dancing along, too. She even found a staircase to walk down for the final dramatic note. More heads turned so their eyes could behold her, as was to be expected. Who could ever know, however, that a pair of gold-flecked green eyes would also turn her way, or that they would belong to who was to be one of the most important people in her life? Not her, for darn sure. She just slid on down to a bus station and plopped carelessly on the bench, surrounded on either side by people with music blaring so loudly from their earbuds they couldn't hear her belting out _I Won't Say I'm In Love_ from Disney's Hercules with undeniable flair and a growl that could simply not be ignored.

The bus pulled into the station, and the crowds shuffled in - well no, not her; she flounced. But another failed to shuffle despondently as well. Unknown to that person, they were walking with head held high and an amazing, rarely-seen light shining out from their eyes. Naturally, they were light green, almost like a blanched forest green Crayola crayon, with gold flecking the irises in the most interesting patterns. They were set into a smooth, pale face and framed by almost shining golden hair, though as this peculiarly important person stepped out of the sun, it came to look like a dull, dirty blonde. The forces of the universe pushed them towards a seat in the sun, the warmth of which widened slightly the enigmatic smile on their pale pink lips.

And for this epic tale not to be creepy, this person was obviously a male of similar age to our dancing traveler.

~.~.~

Libra smiled, softly, calmly, and unknowingly mysteriously, causing eyes that he did not see to focus on him rather intently. He did cut a rather cryptic figure, however. Clothed in all black on such a hot day, and in some kind of robes at that, people cast him strange glances, silently weighing him, wondering if he were a priest or something - but then, what church ministers were clad in all black? None that they knew of. Even the Cult of Grima wore a little color. Usually blood-red, but, still. For his part, Libra knew none of their turmoil and frowns, his eyes largely closed as he luxuriated in the warmth of the sun. The sliver he subconsciously kept them open was, possibly by the universe's doing, enough for him to see the neon figure that walked past him, searching for an empty seat. Gently, his eyes reopened, and he focused them on the girl he'd seen dancing down the street. His smile became more sincere as she turned a few circles before seeing someone get up to move to the back, where someone was waving frenetically, and rushing to plant herself in the vacant seat. Naturally, it was directly across from Libra.

"Hello," he greeted when she looked up at him, a sort of grin on her face. It looked like she was trying not to break out into laughter, though he couldn't imagine why.

"Hey," she said back cheerily enough, giving a little wave before sliding a battered-looking backpack off her shoulder and into her lap and plunging a hand inside to rummage around. Libra blinked as she pulled out a similarly worn out green jacket and swiftly pulled it over her head despite the warmth of the day and the vehicle. "I'm not much for manners," she went on a moment later, hugging her bag to her chest (Libra got the sense she was more than a little nervous, though you'd never find a trace of it on her face) and looking him in the eye once more. "So I'm totally just gonna ask. You a priest or something?"

He laughed lightly. "Am I that obvious? I had hoped to throw some people for a loop by wearing black." She grinned roguishly at this statement but said nothing, clearly still waiting for an answer. He nodded. "Yes, I am. As the dragon on my sleeve might imply," and he turned his hand so that she - and the other curious onlookers - could see the neatly embroidered white dragon on his cuff, "I am a priest of-"

"The Church of Naga," she finished for him, an intrigued glint in her eyes, which he noticed vaguely were a darker and yet brighter green than his own, shining out at the world. The listeners-in lost their interest swiftly. The Church of Naga was boring. The musical girl was clearly not of their mindset. "The original Church of Naga here in Ylisstol? It's still standing?"

"Through no help of the Royal Family," he said, a bit more bitterly than he had perhaps meant to sound, and he smiled again, brightly, to cover for his mistake. "But we've kept it up just the same. Yes, Naga's church is still standing, and tall as it ever did."

She nodded, but he could tell she was by no means satisfied. "Epic. I've always wanted to see it, if just once in my life, y'know? Are the murals depicting the Shepherds still there on the north wall? I-"

Libra interrupted this time, giving her a wry look. "Don't I get a question or two? Such as - since you asked about my attire - why you're wearing so much neon?"

The girl laughed, not in a sheepish way, but all out, as though that were the funniest thing she'd heard all day. If her intent was not to seem nervous, she had failed, as her laughter belied a shakiness that the rest of her wasn't showing. Libra frowned internally. "Alright, alright, fair enough," she conceded, still giggling. "I'll be square with you. This place terrifies the crap out of me," she said, and he could tell she was being completely honest. "My neon sensory overload is so people would see me and _know_ I was there, like, they couldn't deny they saw me there."

Libra nodded slowly. "I suppose the singing was for that as well?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed honestly. "Good old NY's got itself quite a rep for people going missing. Just snatched off the streets, and disappearing like they were never there to begin with. Wasn't happenin' to me!" she declared with a little more spunk, as she had become slightly subdued during her speech.

Now it was Libra who felt unsatisfied, and he folded his arms to show this. "Then, if you don't mind my asking, why were you wandering around like you were?"

She sighed and reached into the pocket of her jacket, rummaging in there also before pulling out a scrap of paper. "I've just technically moved here to live with one of my aunts, but naturally I have no idea where I'm going OR where I've been," she said, chuckling at her own joke. Then she sighed again. "So, Mr. Priest of Naga. Have any idea where 4159 Awakening Way is?"

Libra whistled before he could stop himself. "Ritz _-y_."

Her eyes widened. "What, seriously? That witch!" He blinked. "She's always acting like she's broke and asking my mom for money!"

"Living there, it might be true," Libra remarked. She groaned.

"So, you do know where it is then?"

"Yes," he said slowly, frowning visibly now, and she got a strange look on her face, though again, she said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "But doesn't she have you a hotel room or something for the night?"

Now the girl looked startled, almost spooked. "Why? Why would I need one?"

Libra scoffed unintentionally. "You could never get there today, and she should know if you're staying with her. I know where it is, and it's on the other side of city from here!" She made to speak, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "And I don't mean 20 blocks away, I mean the _other side_ of the city; that place is nearly at the Plegian border," he finished grimly.

At once, he felt terrible, as the girl took on a panicked expression. "I don't have half enough money to get there by buses or cabs!" she exclaimed. He wasn't surprised. Her eyes flicked to the window behind his head. "And there's no way I could walk there; it'd take me 'til Thursday, even though I'd be starting at 11 in the morning..." Her voice shrank in volume as she mumbled, " _Now_ what the heck am I supposed to do?"

"There are extra rooms at the church, if you need a place to stay; the nun's quarters are empty these days," he said kindly, reaching forward to place a hand on her shoulder. It was a full minute of her staring at him before he realized 1) He probably wasn't meant to hear that, much less speak back to it, and 2) That probably sounded extremely creepy in the predator kind of way. He wanted to backpedal, say something comforting and non-creeper-like, but no words would come, so he merely sat that, mouth working with no sound coming out and feeling like an idiot. Fortunately, it seemed to have cheered up the neon girl, as she laughed and slapped his hand away playfully.

"Ease up, Father. I know about you priest-types," she proclaimed - loudly. She started laughing again at the look on his face and reached across the aisle to clap him on the back, as though to say she meant no harm, laugh it off, man, chill. For several minutes she went on laughing, unable to stop, and finally he calmed himself down, shooting her a mock look of disdain which only made her giggle.

At last she mastered herself, the incessant giggling fading out, and she sat up straight in her seat only to slouch back forward onto her elbows. "If the offer's still open, that'd be great," she said, and he nodded at her, an easy smile on both of their faces.

"Of course. Our stop should be coming up in just a few minutes."

He waited patiently, in contrast to his new companion (in more ways than one), who was gesturing jazzily as she began to sing _He's A Tramp_ , albeit at a lower volume than her earlier songs. At last the bus began to slow, and Libra motioned for the girl - they hadn't traded names, he realized - to get up and follow him to the doors. She stuffed the scrap of paper with her aunt's address on it in her pants pocket as opposed to her jacket, and when Libra glanced outside, he saw that the wind was gusting; minutely, for this city, but enough that it likely would have been tugged out of her hand had she tried to hold it, or, as she was aware, her worn jacket's loose, floppy pocket. _I didn't even notice. Probably wouldn't have, if I hadn't seen her do that,_ he mused, looking her over again as she gathered up her things, considering. _She acts so oblivious, but I wonder... How much does she really see?_

She turned back to face him, smiling, but in a small way that said she wasn't exactly happy with her current situation. He gave her a reassuring look in return, and turned to head for the bus's doors, deliberately flicking the contents of his left pocket (a decent-sized wad of bills) to the floor as he did so, glancing at the girl out of the corner of his eye. Though the very second before she'd been swaying in time to her own song, making dreamy expressions and generally not (appearing) to pay attention, as soon as that money came out of his pocket, her eyes zeroed in on it with a frightening level of intensity. In a lightning-fast movement, she'd darted her hand out to catch it, fingers tightening successfully around their target. Then she was back to affecting cluelessness, her expression deceptively innocent when she tapped him on the arm; he looked at her with as much feigned obliviousness as she was giving him, pointedly looking surprised when she pushed them at him. "You dropped this," she said brightly, and he accepted it with a grateful smile.

"I had no idea! Thank you."

"Yep," she said amiably, and went on ahead, exiting the vehicle to stand on the sidewalk, closing her eyes in what looked to be honest, carefree enjoyment as the wind blew a little stronger, pulling her hair away from her face to stream behind her elegantly. Libra shook his head, his lips pulling up into his own honest grin as he strode forward to join her.

 _I always do find the interesting ones, don't I?_

* * *

End part one, thank glob. Now, on to chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 2

And we're back! So this chapter is SO much better than the last one in my personal opinion; hope you guys agree. (It's also twice the size of it, interestingly enough.) But, anyway. Some recommended music for this chapter: _Flora_ and _The Wylde Hunt_ by Omnia. I listened to both of them while writing the tense scene located at the end of the chapter, so if you'd care to listen, you may choose either. I think the latter actually works better, though - start it after Libra comments on the backpack's weight aloud for the second time and restart it as many times a necessary to get through the scene - don't let it go past the wolf howl after ' _come join us for the Wylde Hunt'_ , because the tone of the song changes after that point, and it no longer fits the situation at hand. I tell you what, though, I don't think anything I've ever written before has gotten me as keyed up as I was after I finished this chapter; I literally had to go run laps to get all my nervous energy out after I got done with that scene, and I am literally shaking just remembering it. So. Frikkin'. Intense.

That's enough out of me, though - please, go forward, and enjoy the chapter!

* * *

In New Ylisstol, everything was a district, whether it was officially or not. You want to watch a game? You go to the Sports District. You're looking for a little...action? Redlight District for you, my friend. Thus, where else would you find a church than in what locals referred to as the Church District? The title was hardly a surprise. Churches lined each side of the street, with only a few houses and apartment buildings between them. It was a Wednesday, and people were everywhere, flocking to the church of their choice; there wasn't a single face with a smile on it. Even Libra's neon traveling companion was frowning as the two of them speed-walked through the unsmiling thousands towards their own church destination. Libra himself was unaffected by the other church-goers' open hostility towards the girl with too many colors on at once and the priest wearing black, having long gotten used to their sourness. He smiled at those he passed regardless, the gentle, cryptic curve to his lips that made people stare no matter where he went.

"Are we getting close?"

He turned to her at the whispered question, still wearing that smile, and gave her arm, which, for reasons he himself was still a bit fuzzy on, was threaded through his own, a similarly gentle squeeze. "Nearly," he answered. "It won't be long and you'll be able to see it."

He looked straight ahead after that, struggling not to laugh at the palpable excitement she exuded. She was practically vibrating with it. Libra's heart was warmed by her exuberance to see the old relic he tended to, in a day and age when all save a few had completely renounced Naga for their new, made-up faiths. He lengthened his stride experimentally, to see if the girl could keep up despite having shorter legs, and was only a little surprised when she took notice of the change in speed and surged forward until she was just nearly pulling him along behind her. _It's been a very long time since I've moved at any pace besides 'stately priest walk'..._

As Libra was contemplating the pros and cons of suggesting a run, his arm was suddenly jerked on, making him stumble from the force of the pull. "Look! There it is! I can see it, just around that curve there!" With the intention of giving the girl a thinly veiled look of reproach, Libra pulled his arm out of her tightening grasp and turned toward her fully, only to be stopped short by the expression of sheer joy on her face and shining in her eyes, vaguely feeling his breath floating away with the wind that had stolen it from him and scarcely even caring. For the first time, he took a step back from the situation and really, truly _looked_ at the walking rave he'd offered sanctuary.

The first thing he took note of were her eyes, which he had already been intrigued by when they were on the bus, but somehow, out of the artificial lights and standing in the golden light of late morning, there was something almost magical about them, a sort of fey, otherworldly light filling them from the inside out and seeming to be amplified by the sunlight, as though her green eyes were green, using solar power rather than electricity. These environmentally-conscious eyes were set into a pale white face that was flawless in an 'I've never heard of pimples' way, lacking even one pockmark, and structure of that face was very impressively proportioned indeed; her nose was small and straight (but not pointed), and her cheeks were smooth, if slightly round, as though she hadn't quite lost all the qualities of her baby face.

Below her face, there was little to see, as she was hidden by the raggedy, formless green jacket nearly down to her knees, but from what he had seen earlier in the day, she was... well proportioned elsewhere, as well. A slim waist, large-ish hips, toned, shapely legs, and in the other direction... Yes, her arms and shoulders were toned too; she clearly exercised on a regular basis. Libra pointedly avoided looking at her most noticeable features, certain that he'd hear about them anyways if his sad excuse for a best friend stopped by as he usually did. _He'll probably even know what size bra she wears just from looking,_ he thought with a mixture of disgust and admiration. He was dragged back to reality as Neon (well, he needed  something to call her, even if only mentally) spoke again, verdant eyes sparkling.

"I can't believe I'm actually here to see this," she said reverently. "And the way the sun's hitting the spires... This is just... epic; that's all there is to it."

Libra unwound his arm from hers, causing her to look over at him, her face going into shock as, after a moment of rummaging around in his pockets, he held up the enormous, ancient key to the front gates. "As I'm sure a history buff like yourself already knows, this is-"

"The key that was forged in manakete fire and given to the first priests of Naga after the church was built," Neon interrupted, and before he could blink, she'd snatched it from his hand to run her own over it, searching for flaws and finding none on its gleaming white surface. "Rumored to be capable - in the hands of the faithful - of opening any door on this side of the world, though also said to be useless and lose it luster if taken to a continent where another goddess reigns supreme. Speculated to be white gold and purely ornamental by skeptics, known to the faithful as being plain old iron that was blessed and given magical properties. This key-"

"I hadn't realized your knowledge was so extensive." The words slipped out before he could stop them, as per the norm when he said something snarky, and a blush crawled over both their cheeks, his less intense than hers. Neon made to hand the key back, but he stopped her with a warm smile. "Please, there's no need. In fact, given your interest in the subject, I thought you might like to use it yourself."

"Seriously?" she asked, nonplussed nearly to the point of being minused. "Of course," he replied, and she launched herself at him, giving him a squeeze that turned his face red to the tips of his ears, then left him staggering as she took off at a run for the massive iron gates. Libra hesitated for just a moment before following suit, a grin stretching across his face at the exhilarating feeling of the wind rushing through his hair. It took real effort to catch up to Neon, but he managed, coming up beside her so that her own lengthy hair didn't smack him as it swished back and forth. She tossed said hair when she noticed him, a wild and challenging look in her eyes, and sped up further, her black boots oddly making little sound against the dirt road they ran on, the concrete having dropped away a while back. Liquid fire raced through Libra's veins, the chase awakening a rush he hadn't felt in years; not since the days when he ran with Gaius, when they were the lords of New Ylisse's streets. Normally, he did his best to pretend those days had never happened, but here, now, with that vile, accursed, _glorious_ feeling flooding his senses and rousing his body to that state of alertness you almost couldn't get unless you were running for your life, amplifying _every_ possible sensation...

His rapid steps were thunderous in comparison to hers, but all that mattered was the speed he achieved, not how quietly he did it, not anymore. The world raced past him in startling relief, everything distinct and vibrant and so much more real somehow. The gates rose up in front of him, Neon only just ahead of him now, and if he pushed just a little harder, he knew he would be able to beat her there, but this wasn't the back-alleys of the city, the chaotic mass of obstacles that kept out all those who didn't have an intimate knowledge of how it was arranged that week, and there was nothing to jump over or dodge around, only the harsh reality of the gate around the church, and it wasn't worth the pain of impact with it just to say he'd won. He slowed his pace, every fiber of his body screaming at him not to, but he ignored it all and did so anyway, catching himself against the unforgiving wrought iron just seconds after Neon did the same, the barrier clanking and rattling in protest. Libra's breath was fast and heavy as he came down from his high and the world slowly began to fade back to its normal dullness. For the moment, though, that insane level of clarity was still there, and as he stared unabashedly at Neon only to see her staring right back, her breathing almost normal again already despite the hard run, he knew that he would instantly drop his life here for the one he'd tried so hard to forget if she but asked. Barely an hour knowing her - he didn't even know her name yet - and already he was hopelessly lost in those bright green eyes that met his without any hint of shyness, like she'd almost tried to pretend she possessed earlier. No, right here in this moment, all barriers were down between them. She was not the clueless girl she presented to the world, and he was not the man he appeared to be. They were both, and neither-

"Mind stepping back so I can use this?" she said more than asked, holding up the key. Her voice was deeper than before, some one or two of her defenses still lying in crumbled pieces at his feet, but the moment had passed. Just as well it had done so before he could do anything stupid. He plastered his smile back on his face as he moved away, carefully reconstructing his own fortress, saying "Of course." with a warmth that anyone who hadn't seen him the way he just was would think completely genuine. Her girlish grin had also returned as she slid the key into the lock with a reverence he could now see was another half-truth, a facet to the character she had created for society more than it was really her, although he thought that she might actually be interested a little. However, it was highly doubtful that she was one of Naga's few faithful. Having seen even that little glimpse of her real face beneath the mask, he honestly doubted if she had any religion at all. Her gaze as they'd beheld eachother was not that of one who held anything on high. If he cared as much as he had to seem to, he'd be surreptitiously checking the key for signs that it was losing its luster - not that he thought her a goddess; no, that was beyond ridiculous, but, for someone to be that completely sure of themselves... well, it'd be worth a look, just to make sure. Unable to help himself, he did sneak a tiny peek. No discoloration, of course, although, if anything, it seemed to shine more brightly in her hands, which was admittedly strange. Neon turned the key, making the mechanism clink heavily within the guts of the lock before the gates swung obligingly open before them. She followed the side that still held the key until it bumped gently against the stone walls the gate was set into, then twisted it back out and offered it back to him. He could tell she wanted to toss it, but that wouldn't fit with her illusion. Silently he reached out to take it, sliding it back into the pocket of his robes as he guided the gates shut.

"Come," he said, half just to break the silence, and stepped ahead of her, gesturing for her to follow. "I'll take you to the nuns' quarters so you can put down your things. That bag has to be heavy." She dropped her guard again just briefly and gave him an unreadable look before grabbing the backpack's straps and doing that little hop to heft it up higher on her shoulders, saying something compliant in her false voice that he didn't bother to hear. To be honest, he'd forgotten she even had the thing hanging off her. How had he not seen it during their chase? Had he really been that involved in it? He put the thought as far out of his head as it would go, beginning to chatter pointlessly about the church as he escorted her through the courtyard and eventually the building itself. "Well, as you can see, I wasn't kidding when I said that the Church is still standing, though perhaps I should have put more emphasis on the fact that's about all it's doing," he half-joked, alluding to the obvious erosion of the outer walls. Neon examined both they and the actual cathedral intensely, but seemed satisfied enough with their condition.

"Looks alright to me, considering," she replied, and Libra was forced to concede.

"I suppose you're right. It has been here since before the Shepherds, after all, so perhaps it's holding up better than I seem to think. Speaking of, the murals are only around that next corner, if you'd still like to see them?"

He gathered that he'd startled her by remembering, as she directed a harsh glance at him until she realized what she was doing and tried to cover the look with one of her socially-acceptable alter-ego's bright grins. Libra resolved to make her lose her composure as many times as possible - the woman underneath was far and away more interesting and, dare he say, enticing, than the one she masqueraded as. A slight blush crept up his cheeks when she answered with a bright, "Yeah, that'd be amazing!" and he had to struggle to remember what he'd even said, lost once again in those emerald eyes, the depths of which held no hint of the cheerful girl represented everywhere else. He led the way to the old paintings, nearly faceless splotches of color on the ancient bricks, the respective weapons of the Shepherds some of the only things that could still be seen, the likeness of Falchion in particular retaining most of its painstakingly crafted details. "They're not much to look at anymore, really," he apologized as Neon scrutinized them, subconsciously running a hand along the rough stone as though apologizing to it as well. "Time has not been kind."

"It rarely is," she said dryly, then seemed to be repressing a wince as he turned towards her, unable to help noticing that she'd failed to speak in her falsetto voice. Though he wanted so badly to call her out on it, he said nothing but a soft, "Indeed." before waving her on towards the entrance. She fell into step beside him rather than behind, and Libra forced himself not to steal glances at her as he led her through the labyrinthine interior of the church, pointing out important rooms as they passed by; kitchen, laundry room, restroom, things like that, so she wouldn't have to ask at any time during her stay. He lost track of what he was saying the first time he turned a sharp corner and looked back at her, large parts of his mind deserting him in favor of trying to piece together the puzzle of who was really under that overly happy mask, but since she wasn't looking at him strangely, he decided that his mouth must not be saying anything too stupid and allowed it to continue chattering.

Finally, as they neared their destination, he picked up the thread again and recaptured control of his words, vaguely wondering if anyone else had ever had to wait for themselves to finish speaking so that they could rejoin the conversation. "We're almost there," he said, changing the subject - something about the stained glass windows - to gesture to her backpack. "I'm sorry it's taken so long, that must be getting heavy."

To his surprise, Neon made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. "Either it looks heavier than it is or you have no idea as to the meaning of the word," she laughed, and Libra didn't know what to say for several reasons. Once more she'd switched back to what he assumed was her true voice, deeper than that of her girlish persona though hardly unfeminine. In addition, her words had taken on a strange lilt and cadence, the barest hint of some sort of accent bleeding into them, and quite frankly, he was captivated. Yet again it seemed he'd brought home a stray who turned out to be something far different than he thought. Silently (and probably still staring) he followed Neon's example when she stopped in her tracks to look him in the eye, all traces of the sunny girl banished.

"I apologize," she said bluntly, and Libra marveled that even the way she held herself had changed as she shifted fully into her true identity; no longer did she slouch around like any normal person, but adopted an almost militaristically straight stance. "I've found that 'the real me' tends to be too much for the general populace and thus try to keep my authenticity to a minimum when in their midst." They'd already been making eye contact, but it wasn't until she truly focused on him that he felt trapped by her gaze. "You make me want to completely ignore that. It's been a long time since I've wanted to be all of myself around someone I didn't already know well, and I'm sorry in advance if said authenticity bothers or offends you, because I don't think I can stand hiding anymore."

She took a single step forward, and Libra again mirrored her, heart hammering in his chest though his voice was even when he answered. "I'm far from offended, believe me," he spoke lowly, and she stepped closer again, clearly intrigued by his own deeper tones. He moved up. They were only a few feet from eachother now, and he was getting almost the same adrenaline rush from that as he had from the chase. "Quite honestly, I've already been trying to think of ways to make you behave less her and more you - I'd rather talk to you any day." Closer still. The afternoon sun streaming through the windows, clear glass and stained, caught on her eyes and skin and made her something otherworldly (little did he know that she was thinking much the same of him) that threatened to steal the breath right from him. "And I must apologize for my own forwardness as well. It has been... a _very_ long time since I have wanted to be anything resembling the man I used to be, content to live in the world I've constructed for myself here, but you-" He broke off into a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "You also seem to bring out the worst in me, and the frightening part is that I'd like to let you."

Neon laughed lowly. Each breath she expelled shifted small strands of his hair that had gotten away from the rest, they were so close; he could smell the sweetness of blueberries on those breaths, and it was maddening. "Shouldn't you be panicking at my proximity by now, or praying for my soul or something? I am practically threatening to kiss a total stranger," she pointed out, and tilted herself in such a way that would make it _so easy_ to take her up on the offer.

"I don't know," he said honestly, looking down into her entrancing eyes, and he could feel his hands trembling. "I'm having a bit of trouble remembering protocol just now."

Her laugh this time was almost dark. "You weren't always a priest."

It wasn't a question at all, but he treated it like one. "No. No, not hardly. And I wasn't exactly the best guy - wouldn't be the first time I've kissed a stranger," he elaborated when she arched a slender brow - and then she was right there, so close to him that their chests touched if they happened to inhale at the same time, though the increase in his heart rate and breathing sort of kept that from happening.

"Wouldn't be mine either," she said off-handedly, as though they weren't inches away from eachother, and she looked up, pinning him with her gaze again. "But, so the question is: is the Church of Naga your calling or your penance?" she asked, and he could tell she expected an answer.

"Bit of both," he whispered on an exhale, and Neon smirked. His heart stuttered.

"Is that so?" Libra felt immensely better and worse when she let out a harsh breath, better because he wasn't the only one affected by this... _encounter_ , and worse because the scent of blueberries and powdered sugar assaulted him and made him wonder if her lips would taste as sweet. "I appreciate your honesty, at least. Hard to find that anymore, even in situations like these - everyone's got something to hide, it seems."

"What about you?" he countered, seizing the opportunity she'd left for him to ask, then struggled to fight down a blush as he realized from the slow smile spreading across her face that he'd been meant to.

Even so, she didn't answer immediately, and in fact, she didn't say anything until that smile he'd seen form had fallen away, crushed by the obvious gravity of the thoughts going on behind those eyes, but finally, she spoke again. The sound sent shivers up Libra's spine. "This is as honest as I can be," she said, and because he knew it was a genuine statement, he didn't bother pointing out that she'd avoided the actual question, too afraid that if he did so the spell would break, the moment gone never to be reclaimed.

"Just tell me one thing," he breathed, tilting his head downwards to better hold her gaze. Green-tinted black and gold mingled on the front of their clothing, his hair entwining with hers. Neon looked back at him evenly, waiting. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Depends," she replied, looking up so she'd be easier to reach. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Stop me," he said, and it was both a warning and a plea. She said and did nothing, even when his hands settled lightly at her waist, instead waiting until his skin brushed against her own to place a hand in the center of his chest and push lightly. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done to pause there, lips almost touching, and turn his face instead to touch his forehead with hers for the briefest of moments before pulling back and stepping away. His heart was still beating wildly as he tried to bring his breathing back under control, eyes focused on the flagstones that made up the floor. He could see enough out of the corner of his eye to know that Neon had not moved save to let her hand fall to rest on the strap of her backpack.

Finally, he decided that he'd mastered himself enough to speak, and dared to look up at her again as he waved her forward. "The nuns' rooms are just down here, if you still want to stay...?"

She drew in a quick breath through her nose and let it out, shaking her head to resettle her hair out of her face. "Yes, if you don't mind," she said honestly, and Libra offered her that unintentionally cryptic smile of his, nodding his assent in place of words. Silence reigned between them, the only sound the echo of their boots against the stone floor as the priest resumed leading the way.

* * *

Duuuude. Tell me I'm not the only one affected by that. It can't just have been me, right? _Right?!_

Anyways, please please PLEASE let me know what you think about this fic; I am desperate for feedback on this because I've never done anything like it before, which makes me somewhat nervous. I know that the sudden shift in character - for both of them - is kinda choppy and weird, but *shrugs* it happened and I liked what I wrote too much to try and redo it. Also, I need your help, here, guys - do you want me to continue to write from Libra's perspective, or do you want me to switch over to "Neon"'s? I can't decide which I would rather do, so help me out? :D Thank you all so much for reading, I seriously love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

Hi, guys! Been a while again already. (I don't know who I'm talking to, exactly, because from the stats it looks like nobody's reading this one but I'm going to pretend there's someone out there anyways?) Ah, well. In all honesty I'm going to keep uploading new chapters of this as often as I finish them - oh and get somewhere with reliable internet - because I personally love this and am having so much fun writing it, exhausting as it can sometimes be. If there is anyone here, I'd like to say something about Libra's little continent conundrum: for the sake of this fic, we're going to say that Tellius and Elibe are the only other continents in the world besides those that appear in Awakening, and that is because they're the only two I know anything about. I've played only a small number of Fire Emblem games, and while I could probably have looked up the names of the regions where the other games took place, I still wouldn't have any details about the locations or the characters, and I'd rather stick with what I know than half-a** additions, y'know what I mean? Also we have in this chapter a brief respite from being in Libra's head to check out the interior of "Neon"'s. I wasn't sure I wanted to do anything from her perspective until I got to a point where Libra just didn't want to cooperate and I had no choice. I like how it turned out, but again, if anyone's reading, let me know what you prefer. I aim to please! Enough blathering for now - let's get on with the chapter.

* * *

He had gone, for the moment, having excused himself with a clear lie of something that needed tending, and she was alone in the matron's room, apparently the nicest the church had to offer. It was more opulent than she would have expected, without a doubt, but it wasn't exactly the quarters she'd been afforded in the last church she'd been in, the Cathedral in Sienne. Despite being long empty from what she could gather, the room, like all others they'd passed, was clean and largely free of dust, ready and waiting for human occupation. The lone but large window faced a small group of trees within the fortress-reminiscent wall, and she stood looking out at them for a moment, watching the midday sunlight sparkle along the leaves, before sliding her bag off her shoulders and dropping it on the 'queen' bed that dominated the room - and wasn't that one of the more hilarious notions she'd found in Ylisse. This continent's inhabitants were deluded if they thought that little thing was what a queen would have in her bedchamber, and she should know if anyone did how it measured up, having been invited into the quarters of many a royal and high-ranking officer over the years. She ran her hand over the silky white bedspread, a smirk spreading over her face as she recalled a particular room in Mainal Cathedral, her memory transforming the slick fabric under her palm into the soft furs that covered Zelgius's bed. If she hadn't known when to stop with the wine he'd kept her glass filled with that night, he just might have been able to talk her into a different sort of sparring session...

She stowed that memory back in the depths of her mind as she left the bag where it lay and went to close the door to the room, missing the wooden bars the rest of the world used as locks and making a face at the deadbolt as she turned it, heading to the curtains as soon as it had clicked into place to pull them shut, only then going back to her belongings. It was odd, on one hand, not to be known for who she was and what she did, but on the other, it was somewhat freeing. She'd been here for a little over a year, and still, no wars had found her, which meant that she had had no need for her skills - and more importantly, neither had anyone else. And yet, the freedom of her anonymity came alongside other restrictions that were almost more annoying than they were worth, like the pathetic alter-ego she'd been forced to adopt to blend in with the rest of the region's inhabitants. Pretending to be that empty-headed and bubbly was almost more than she could stand some days, and that priest she'd run across had made it impossible to keep it up, to the abyss with appearances. His face flashed in her mind as she stripped off her garish outfit, another inconvenience of this flaming continent and one she was not going to deal with for another minute no matter _who_ might be looking for her. It wasn't as if she couldn't handle anyone who happened to find her anyways; she'd just been trying to avoid making a mess in public.

With that issue as resolved as it was going to get, her mind cycled back to the priest, again. There was just something about him that piqued her interest, and not only the obvious fact of what he had been before he became a servant of the regional goddess. She'd long ago accepted what attracted her to a man; the lean but muscular frames and fluid, silent movements unique to thieves and assassins were traits she could spot from a mile away, and blonde hair would always be a weakness of hers thanks to her first ill-fated crush. No, there was something else beyond that physical appeal that drew her to him, even before her mild-mannered alter-ego had talked herself into a corner and practically forced her into following him here. She reviewed their interactions in chronological order as she redressed in her preferred garments, each piece of clothing lifting a tension from her shoulders as the familiar weight of them settled against her skin, where they were meant to be. By the time she was reaching into her travel bag for the cloak resting carefully and safely at the bottom, she decided she'd worked it out: unlike everyone else she'd met in this place thus far, he seemed as though he didn't belong, like he'd have been more at home on another continent, where things weren't so bloody flaming phony. Oh, nobles had always had their games, and she had no doubt they always would, but when the entirety of the population tried to play them too, well, that was the height of absurdity, and she was already sick of it just moments after her arrival on Ylissean soil. Deft fingers fastened the heavy traveling cloak around her slender frame with practiced ease, and she rolled her shoulders to coax it into resting the way she liked it to, needing to make the motion only once as the weighty garment gladly complied with her wishes, as though it had missed her presence as much as she had missed its.

She drew in a deep breath and held it for as long as she could before exhaling, and with that breath seemed to go all her previous concerns - and as well they should have. New location, new situation; best to go in with as clean a slate as possible. She'd barely even made the priest's acquaintance, yet she knew he wouldn't bring up what had happened in the hallway just as she had no intentions of doing so. In truth, though she didn't know him at all, she couldn't stop herself feeling that she understood him to a degree. Just as she had been lurking behind her publicly acceptable mask, so he hid beneath his own. Under the calm and mild man of the cloth, there waited a far more interesting person, and she had every intention of meeting him for more than a brief tryst in the rainbow light of a stained glass window, though she certainly wouldn't mind seeing him there again. Standing alone in the darkened and empty room, she had to laugh self-decprecatingly. Less than five years since the death of the man she knew to be her soul mate, scarcely two since she'd left her last suitor waiting for an answer he had to know she could never give, and here she was again, her worthless heart shoving her in the direction of this priest in black, whose eyes held such fire and passion, with the force of a dragon laguz - or Yune when she was excited. The thought of the chaos goddess made her cringe, particularly in relation to the other person she'd been thinking of. Heavens, goddesses, and Saint Elimine forbid the madwoman should find her and learn that she was interested in this poor man, or neither of them would have any peace until the red-head had her way and saw them together, 'for her favorite human's happiness', she was sure the reasoning would be. Best just not to think of her anymore, lest she appear. Speak of the devil and all that.

A quiet sound outside the door drew her attention that way, and she shook herself back to full awareness, putting on a more neutral face as opposed to the twisted half-grin she'd been offering herself as she chuckled mirthlessly at her own foolishness. Unless there were other people hiding around the church somewhere, she and the priest (at some point, she mused idly, she'd have to learn his name, and if she knew herself, she'd do so before giving him hers) would appear to be the only sentient beings in the building, so it must have been him waiting on the other side of the thick wooden door, though the fact that he hadn't knocked yet probably meant he hadn't intended to be heard. Still, it wouldn't do to keep him waiting too much longer; the church, while again nothing on the scale the last house of worship she'd visited, was much larger than she'd seen, meaning that the tour was far from over if she had to guess. Moving silently as _he_ had taught her in those precious, stolen moments during her first world-hangs-in-the-balance war, she secured the few of her belongings that mattered in a locking cabinet, which conveniently had the key hanging from a cord on the knob. Naturally she tested the key before placing her things inside, an unfortunate, paranoid side-effect of her profession and the deeply ingrained refusal to take anything at face value said profession had left her with. The clothes she left in the bag, which sat at an innocent tilt on the creamy white bedspread, and, as was only right, the last item to be removed from the backpack was fastened to her hip with the sash it had been wrapped in to protect it from everything else she'd been carrying, the light green fabric tied tightly around her waist and the well-aged tome. It was the final piece of her traditional outfit, and in several ways, the final piece of her identity, all the shards that made her up sliding seamlessly into position again at last.

As she stepped soundlessly across the flagstones to the door, pulling the cabinet key over her head and tucking it under her dress so the cold metal rested against her skin, she wondered, now that she was herself again, how long it would take for something that required her skills to darken the horizon.

 **~.~.~.~**

Libra exhaled harshly, his back meeting the hard stone wall behind him in much the same way. He'd left her back there in the matron's quarters to put away her things, saying that he had something to do before beating a hasty retreat, painfully aware that she knew he was lying and had simply chosen not to comment on the blatantly obvious. His head tipped backwards, the impact of it hitting the wall making a satisfying thump. Even the muted burn of pain was a welcome distraction while it lasted, but of course, it faded too quickly to make any real difference, and he wasn't quite desperate enough to bash his head into the wall harder just so he would have something other than the almost-kiss to think about... but truth be told, it was a close thing.

His failures as today had been astounding. Naga didn't expressly forbid her servants the pleasures of the flesh, as he knew other goddesses demanded of their vassals, but still, the surviving books and scrolls from ancient days, which supposedly held her word, stated in no uncertain terms that her priests and clerics were to be married before partaking in such things. What was far less clear was whether or not a kiss really counted, or if the so-called word of Naga referred only to sex in that respect. When he had joined the Church, he had asked the aged priests in charge, just so he knew where he stood, but they hadn't known anymore than he did now, though they had suggested he err on the side of caution and assume that any sort of intimate touch was included in the command. He hadn't liked the sound of that then and he didn't like it now - he especially didn't like it now, with the scent of blueberries and powdered sugar so easily recalled he almost thought he could still smell it, the sweetness on Neon's breath absolutely maddening. He just knew that if their lips had actually touched, he would have been able to taste it, and the thought made his mouth water, forcing him to gulp as he stood there like a fool, pressed against a wall, daydreaming about a girl only a few hallways away.

"Get it together," he whispered scathingly to the emptiness of the room, and the cavernous interior of the Church made sure it echoed back to him several times. He dragged in a ragged breath, trying to smell what was really in the air instead of the imagined fruit scent that tormented him so, but the dusty, musty odor of the rocks around him, tinged with a hint of fake-lemon cleaning supplies from earlier in the week, was so unappealing to breathe in that deeply that he soon gave up, letting the air out in a sound best described as a mixture of a huff and a scoff. He remained there against the wall, shoulders tensed even as the rest of his body was lax, and did his best to push the encounter from his mind. It wasn't easy in the least, and it occurred to him during the effort (which he had no doubt would fail in the end) that this was the closest he had been to a woman he wasn't friends with since before he had come to the Church. That was nearly five years ago now, he realized after a quick count, and his lips quirked into a wry grin. No wonder he'd been so affected, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn't all of it, or even most. Denial would have been easier, but he knew he couldn't lie to himself on this; it wasn't _a_ woman, it was _that_ woman, specifically, that had nearly driven him mad.

He knew almost worse than nothing about her, other than the fact that he found her both beautiful and somewhat terrifying, and yet, there was something so magnetic about her. When she'd looked at him, eyes and face unguarded after their chase, he had felt, completely irrationally, that he would follow her to the ends of the earth if she wanted him to, and while that was more than a little frightening, in that moment, he had caught a glimpse of someone far _more_ than the young face looking back at him, a deep wisdom and sharp edge (in more ways than one) beyond what anyone who seemed so close to his own age should possess. His life had been far from perfect, and he had seen and experienced horrible things over the course of it, but for this girl to look so... he hated to say battle-hardened, but that was what the look reminded him of, a seasoned warrior, staring out at the world, eternally ready to pounce as soon as some poor fool dared to challenge her authority. At some point in her life, she'd come, she'd seen, she'd conquered, and though he'd already seen evidence that she was still very much human, as he replayed the memory of the hallway encounter in his mind, that warrior had still been there behind the interested woman, mindful of potential threats even during that interaction. Libra daren't even _try_ to imagine what she must have done and seen to carry that with her all the time, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he meant to find out.

Running a hand through his hair, Libra took another breath and managed to mostly compose himself. The resolution to get to know Neon helped, despite knowing he may as well have just taken up some sort of drug - he could already see how this would go, and that she was going to become an addiction, this beautiful girl with so many mysteries hiding behind her bright emerald eyes, but even so, he knew he couldn't let it go now; already, he was in too deep to give her up. The fact that she was a lot of what he found physically attractive in a woman didn't help matters whatsoever, though the person he'd seen behind her bubble-headed mask would have drawn him in even if she hadn't been appealing in that way. Despite a generalized dislike of them, he'd met quite a lot people in his life, and no one had ever been as immediately fascinating as her. It was like... Where everyone else made sense with the world around them, fitting in somewhere eventually, she stood out, made for something other than the daily toil of the rat race. The way she spoke, the way she held herself, the way she behaved; she just didn't match with her surroundings. Of course, travel between continents, while rarer than it probably should have been, wasn't unheard of, and as he peeled himself off the wall and made his way back to the nun's quarters, he entertained the notion that she had come to Ylisse from somewhere else, deciding swiftly that it was the only thing that made any sense. Now he just needed to figure out which one she originated from, and part of the mystery would be solved already. At least he could cross the rest of Archanea off his list; she certainly wasn't Plegian, had no hint of Chon'sin, that lilt in her voice wasn't Valmese, and while she would probably have fit in well in Regna Ferox, it was highly doubtful she'd come from there.

Life on the other continents - life in other regions period, for that matter - was vastly different from Ylissean life, or so he'd read and been told. To his understanding, the technology in Tellius and Elibe was basic at best, Elibe being the more advanced of the two. Both had running water and indoor plumbing and such, but phones in Elibe were all clunky landlines, and many small towns only had one according to what he knew, a sort of communal line anyone could use to communicate with distant family if they'd rather hear their voice than send and receive letters. Even in the larger cities, they weren't terribly common, and television was nonexistent, the people simply living and working the land as they had done for generations before and would likely continue to do for generations after, so very far removed from Ylisse's sleek smartphones and round-the-clock TV on every channel from 1 to 500. Tellius was closer to a medieval way of life, lacking even a basic phone and perfectly happy without it, if the quotes he'd read in his geography book in school years ago could be believed. Apparently, where Ylisse's technological progress had been rapid, very little had changed in Tellius for over a century, and they were quite pleased with themselves about that fact. Both continents were still ruled by kings and lords, nothing changing there as the years passed save the names, and in the case of Tellius, even many of those were the same as they had been centuries before, the almost insane longevity of the laguz rulers no doubt helping their 'world' maintain its simpler system. They were therefore also home to many armies and warriors, and though news was slow to travel, he had heard of several recent wars on each, and assuming Neon was anywhere near him in age as she appeared to be, it wasn't far-fetched to think she could have been involved.

Lost in thought over which one would be more likely to turn a girl into such an imposing figure as the true Neon seemed to be and unable to decide, Libra stumbled a bit as he drew himself to a halt, realizing that he'd nearly walked right past the formerly open door Neon had to be behind. A light blush rose to his cheeks; he was glad the door was shut, honestly, so he wouldn't look like anymore of an idiot in her eyes than he had probably already made himself seem. He couldn't think of anything in particular just now, but he was sure he'd done _something_ stupid over the course of time since he'd met this girl. Backing away from the door to stand casually against the wall, Libra took the time to review all their interactions as he waited for her to emerge from the room, internally cringing at each failure he recalled though his face remained neutral throughout.

"Waited long?"

Only the strictest self-control kept him from jumping out of his skin when Neon's voice suddenly came from his right, and he turned to find her standing there with an expression of innocence on her face that set his aflame. She'd intentionally frightened him, and the twinkle in her eyes said she knew he knew. A slow smirk spread across her face when he clenched his fist in frustration, because of course she'd noticed, but what bothered Libra more than anything else was that he hadn't heard her make a single sound, not when she stepped nor when she opened the door. She was going to keep him on his toes, this one.

"No," he answered as gracefully as he could, determined not to give any more signs that she'd gotten to him. Pushing off the wall, he stood at his full height, about a head over her, and looked down to meet her eyes, though his own soon flicked lower to scan over her... interesting change in clothing. When first they'd met, if indeed what they'd done constituted such when they were both lying, she could have passed for any normal young adult, albeit one with a flair for the dramatic, covered in all her bright colors. Now, she was almost as oddly dressed as he was; gone were the hand-painted blue jean capris and neon rainbow shirt, and gone as well was the bedraggled green jacket. Now she stood before him in garments that would only have looked right at a renaissance faire - or on another continent, he amended, positive now that that's where she'd come from.

Her old-fashioned dress was a snowy white, the hem falling just short of the floor with a slight flare at the bottom, as though it had a tiny train on the back, not quite enough to drag the ground, but noticeably pulling the dress outward. Libra's gaze traveled upward, noting the almost Zelda-reminiscent piece of triangular fabric that covered the front of the skirt from the waist down while leaving the sides visible, a woodsy green affair bearing some sort of yellow crest near the pointed bottom. The top of the dress was largely obscured a corset of the same shade; being friends with several women, he knew that it was called an underbust corset, though he didn't know if there were a name for the specific style of this one, with the almost halter-top-like straps that held it on with help from the busks. He admittedly didn't devote much thought to it, too busy with noticing the V-cut neckline of the dress beneath it. While not deep enough to be immodest by any means, there was enough cleavage on display that he was forced to direct his attention elsewhere, lest he be slapped for ogling. Instead of staring as he honestly wanted to, he followed the lines of her arms to the ends of the fitted point sleeves, which came further over her hand than usual to rest at the first knuckle of her middle finger. Her left hand sat atop an ancient-looking book, which was tied to her waist with a moderately green sash, and over top of it all was a heavy traveling cloak in various shades of green, brighter around the hood and shoulders and fading into a lighter color than the sash as it traveled downward, intricate designs that almost made him think of Celtic knotwork stitched into the thick fabric with obvious care.

At last he met her eyes again, their bright emerald shade not overpowered by the rest of the green at all - and having lost their somewhat mischievous twinkle to a more hardened look, he noted with an inward cringe. He may have stared too long after all. "I hardly recognize without all those other colors," he said lightly, trying to cover for his mistake. "I would say it's like you're a whole other person, but that would be a bit redundant at this point, don't you think?"

The little smirk returned to her face as she nodded, a slow, single dip of her head, as though in respect. "So it would," she said simply, and offered nothing else, apparently content to let him make the first move from here. Hm. Very well, then.

"I gather that you're fond of books?" he asked, still in that airy tone, as he looked to the one resting against her left hip. It too, he now saw, was green, and he began to wonder what the significance of the color was. She inclined her head again, but didn't comment, merely watching him with those eyes that missed no detail. Libra wanted to sigh, but restrained himself, instead keeping up his unaffected facade. "Well," he said with a smile, "if you'd care to continue the tour, we do have an extensive library you would probably enjoy."

The look she gave him was an odd one, as if she wasn't quite sure what his game was, and he wondered if he was actually good enough at this BS-ery, to use one of Gaius's phrases, to confuse her as much as she confused him. "Extensive?" she replied with an almost mocking edge to her tone. "Yes, I think I'd like that very much. Lead the way." She stepped up to his side and lifted her left arm slightly, as though she expected him to thread his own through it like he had earlier when they'd been walking through the Church District. Doing so would make him uncomfortable, as that would be his dominant hand rendered essentially useless, but he wasn't going to shrink from her challenge, if that's what this was. He offered her his enigmatic smile and gently wound her arm around his own, gesturing down the hallway with his left hand.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," he said, and Neon (no longer a very fitting moniker) tensed, her breath hitching and her hand tightening on his arm involuntarily. Libra glanced down her, the game of intrigue forgotten in genuine concern, with which he openly gazed at her. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, easing her grip, and flicker her eyes up to meet his. "Please. Don't call me that," she begged.

"Alright," he acquiesced, voice still soft. "I promise." He paused, wondering if he should add anything else, then decided he'd already broken character and went on. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm... sorry."

The girl chuckled derisively, a single 'hm' sound, and it didn't seem to be directed at him. "No," she said quietly, her long dark hair flaring as she shook her head. "It's hardly your fault I took offense to something that's so meaningless in Ylisse." She exhaled harshly. "But, the fact remains: I am _not_ a Lady." Then she laughed again, still sounding self-deprecating as she did so. "So maybe I should stop acting like one," she muttered, stepping back and turning to face him fully. "I'm sorry if you were having fun, but I don't think I can stand to play court games anymore. From here on out, would you mind if we just talked instead of talking in circles?"

Libra blinked at her in disbelief. "Mind?" he said incredulously. "Just talking would be a relief," he assured her, answering her little smile with a wider one of his own as he reached out to take her arm again. She let him, resting her pale hand elegantly on his sleeve, the black and white contrasting dramatically. "I was already wondering how long I could keep that up, to tell the truth."

"Exhausting, isn't it?" she agreed, and they shared another smile as they started down the hall, her dress and his robes rustling as they went. The silence now was companionable, broken only when Libra stopped to point out features of the Church and their history when they passed interesting pieces on their way to the library.

* * *

Aaand that's a wrap for now. I actually haven't gotten far on the next chapter at this moment, it's being difficult for some reason, but! We'll soon have more than two characters, and by the end the tactician will have finally given her name ;) See you then!


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